


Happier

by lunarlunatik



Category: GOT7
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-28
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 07:31:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17199230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarlunatik/pseuds/lunarlunatik
Summary: Mark Tuan didn't believe in "bi" men, destiny, or self-less love, until he met Jackson Wang and his family.





	Happier

 

 

 

 

There were a lot of things Mark Tuan didn't believe in. Chief among them were “bi” men (he wasn't sure about women, they were just a different species altogether) . Bi men weren't real, the same way ghosts weren't. There were only out and proud gays like himself and the closeted, in-denial gays, aka “bi” men.

 

 

Or so he had thought, until he met Jackson Wang.

 

 

He didn't meet the guy through any of the usual channels, not apps nor clubs, nor anything of the sort. Instead they met through Jackson's then girlfriend, whom he was very much in love with and was about to marry. They met because Mark made the most beautiful wedding dresses money could buy and the happy couple came to him to presumably order one.

 

 

The girl eventually did get a dress from him, but it was a couple of years later and it was paid for by a guy Mark didn't know and didn't even get to meet this time.

 

 

Mark also didn't believe in “destiny” . It was just a word for people who did not see the bigger picture, hadn't found the connection, or simply didn't want to take responsibilities for their own actions and shit. So the irony almost killed him when a post-coital Jackson, one month into their . . . whatever you called that stage where the guy was fucking the new replacement lover behind their current one's back, told Mark that they were “destined” . Later a more sober Jackson also testified in the cheating court that “time stopped” for him when he saw Mark's face for the first time. It was either Mark or death. It was “self-defense”, he said.

 

 

 

What boggled the mind was how accepting Jackson's family was about the whole thing. Not exactly the dumping your girlfriend of four years for a guy thing, but the “guy” part more specifically, because, although neither he nor Jackson were like truly “Chinese” , they were all still one big fucking group of Chinese people, with ideas about families and traditions. Basically, it was about having as many sons as they could to . . . Mark wasn't sure why, because these were het people's ideas, but yes “sons” , little babies with dicks that came from women's wombs. An anatomical part that Mark clearly didn't have. Jackson could come in him as much as he wanted, Mark was never gonna grow life and pop it out.

 

 

 

You could even say that Jackson's family loved Mark to death. Mrs. Wang made him call her “Sophia” and she called him a “gorgeous boy” , and hugged and pinched his cheeks all the times for Christ's sake. And Jackson's dad was so friendly and funny with him, just like Jackson himself minus the sex, of course. So was Jackson's brother. And even the two girls were, to use Jackson's words, “in love” with Mark. The same cannot be said from his own side (Mark's father could barely stand to be in the same room as Jackson), but that was a story for another night.

 

 

 

And all this was why Mark was celebrating Christmas with the Wang clan again, for the 5th time now. This year it was hosted at Jackson's own place, a house with four bedrooms, purchased half a year before he and his then fiancé showed up at Mark's shop. Admittedly, Mark spent more days and nights here than at his own flat, but of course he had never officially “moved in”. Mark packed a bag, sometimes two and moved them between the two places.

 

 

Spending time with them like this reminded Mark how the Wangs really were one big happy family. Like truly. They enjoyed each other's company and all that shit. Things that normal people, that is, people with toxic familial relationships, could only dream of.

 

 

The food was good too, because Mark ordered it from his favourite restaurant as he himself only knew how to use the microwave and make coffee. And Jackson's brother and his family didn't deserve Jackson's culinary skills after travelling hundreds of miles to see them.

 

 

Now they had just moved to the living room. The adults were chitchatting and Mark was relaxed even in this kind of situation. Although he didn't contribute much to the conversations, he listened and laughed along genuinely.

 

The kids, Jackson's nieces and Jackson himself, were playing some type of board game on the floor. And Jackson was intentionally losing every game just to make his nieces laugh and do victory dances. To say that his boyfriend loved kids would be a huge understatement; it was an obsession more like. He would try to approach them, try to get them to play with him all the bloody time. Mark was actually quite surprised they had not been arrested due to Jackson's out-of-control adoration for kids. Mark couldn't even begin to imagine how soft and totally in love Jackson would be with his own biological kids.

 

 

Mark also didn't believe in self-less love, but again he was proven wrong by the Wangs. What he was seeing in front of his eyes right now and the fact of Jackson himself, someone as good and as beautiful inside-out as Jackson could never be a product of anything but being born into and brought up in a family with complete and all consuming unconditional love.

 

 

In fact Jackson's family was so nice and considerate that they would consciously refrain from talking about “kids” in front of Mark. Even though Mark had never said or done anything to suggest that he wasn't ok with the topic.

 

 

He had asked Jackson's opinion on the matter a couple of years back, when it had dawned on Mark that Jackson was actually gonna stick with him long-term.

 

 

Mark brought it up one night when they were both too tired to have sex but too alert to fall asleep just yet. Jackson had his head under Mark's chin and Mark asked while his fingers were drawing the infinity sign on Jackson's bare back under the blanket.

 

 

“We could adopt . . . if you want,” Jackson had said.

 

 

_What if I don't want?_

 

 

Mark heard a small smile in his lover's tone, but there were other things too. Things that made Mark ask another question.

 

 

“Don't you want your own flesh and blood children?”

 

 

Jackson took a bit of time, then he kissed Mark's neck, rubbing his stubbly cheek against it. His answer came in an agonized murmur:

 

 

“Not without you.”

 

 

His arms tightened around his Jackson. That night had also been the first time Mark completely believed that a thief like him was actually loved.

 

 

After Jackson's brother's family had gone back to their hotel and his parents had retired for the night, Mark moved from sitting beside his boyfriend to straddle his lap. His two hands cradled Jackson's face.

 

 

Jackson looked quite taken aback. And why wouldn't he? Mark had been rather . . . he had kept his distance and had refused any intimate activities for the last couple of months. Mark had thought it would be enough to . . . to push Jackson away, enough to make him go to other people, to find someone else. It had not. Even when the most he allowed was a hug here and there, Jackson was still here and he still said “I love you” when he could get close enough for long enough.

 

 

But it was ok now to do this again. Mark let himself look and touch to his heart's desire, marvelling at how someone this perfect, this wonderful could be his for this long, for these six happiest years of his life.

 

 

He kissed Jackson's hair before anything else and breathed him in deep, inhaling his sense down to the last available space in his lungs. His love smelled like summer, like sunlight, like home.

 

 

Then Mark kissed his smooth forehead, his elegant little nose, and then finally those damn addictive lips.

 

 

Jackson's mouth tasted of rum and sugar from the Christmas pudding they had. Mark's heart broke a little when he responded like a man about to die from thirst and Mark's mouth was the only available oasis.

 

 

When Mark had to move their lips apart a bit because his lungs started to burn and he was getting too lightheaded too quick, Jackson whispered to the corner of his mouth.

 

 

“You're so nice to me tonight.”

 

 

He tried not to notice, but nothing could cloud the aura of unadulterated happiness his Gaga was radiating just because Mark kissed him.

 

 

_I'm sorry, my love._

 

 

 

After acting like a bitch for the last couple of . . . days? Months? Years? Anyway, he was making up for it now, for everything. Because he didn't need to intentionally push Jackson away anymore. Mark could do and be all the things that he had restrained himself for doing and being for the past two months now. He could love him and show it now.

 

 

Mark let himself fall all over again, confessing: “I've missed you. So much. You have no idea.”

 

 

And he kissed him with all the pent-up feelings and all the knowledge that this would be his last chance to have his fill.

 

 

Jackson was quickly breaking apart in his arms, half panicked horse, half starving lion. Mark dragged his face away, despite jackson's protesting whimpers. He rubbed Jackson's hands that gripped his waist hard enough to bruise soothingly, got up, held one hand out for his lover to take, and led him upstairs to their . . . to the master bedroom. He did all this without looking away from Jackson's face even for one second.

 

 

Just a small push and Jackson went down to sit on the bed like he had no control of his own body, like he'd do anything Mark told him to, no questions asked. He looked somehow like he couldn't believe his luck that Mark would voluntarily touch him at all, even though Mark felt that it should be the other way round.

 

 

Sometimes Mark seriously did wish that they had been more normal, more like other people, other couples who didn't feel particularly strong for each other but stayed together because they didn't know what else to do. Tough luck for him, Mark felt for the guy so much still that at times he got too overwhelmed to even breathe from the mere thoughts of seeing Jackson's face.

 

 

He knelt at Jackson's feet, and for a couple of seconds he wanted to laugh at the eager puppy look his boyfriend was spotting. He was just as deadly adorable now as the first time Mark saw him.

 

 

Jackson was half-hard already and Mark took him into his mouth with no fanfare, no teasing, because he himself probably missed this more than Jackson did. Mark breathed in that familiar warm musk that always got his lower half throbbing all over, got him clenching hands and toes, got him so horny he couldn't even think. He closed his lips as tight as he could and went up and down all the way in a steady rhythm that he knew his boyfriend loved, putting pressure on all the sensitive spots that he had learned over the years.

 

 

Jackson didn't even dare touch his hair or any other parts of him, just bunching up and pulling at the sheets. Maybe he was afraid Mark would stop and go back to no touching. Mark's chest throbbed painfully at the thought.

 

 

He withdrew his mouth amid Jackson's repetition of “please”, “no”, and “don't go”. But he just went to get the lube from the nightstand drawer. This time he really laughed out loud from Jackson's expression, it was like he had just won a million dollar or something.

 

 

“Mark, can I . . .? Please?”

 

 

He didn't think it was a good idea to let Jackson prep him, because he was too good at that and Mark always ended up an undignified screaming mess whenever he let Jackson's fingers in him.

 

 

“Please, baby, please?”

 

 

Sad puppy dog eyes begged him. Mark sighed over his fate. He never could say no, even when he knew he should try his best to. He spared a thought to his constant what-if scenario: if he had been able to resist Jackson from the get-go, they might not have been in this situation at all.

 

 

He shushed Jackson when he attempted to help Mark undress and his chastised puppy really was on his best behaviour tonight as he listened and just kept his grabby hands to himself (Mark would overlook the pouting). Mark then lied down on his back with one huge pillow under his hips, holding his own knees up till they almost reached his ears.

 

 

When Jackson's slippery fingers went up to three, going in and out of his hole up to the last knuckle, Mark had to bite down on one hand to keep his desperate moaning down. Jackson was strong all over but his damed fingers. Fuck. They had always been super greedy with him, always spreading his hole as far as it would go, always diving in as deep as they could, like they wanted to reach his core and stay there forever.

 

 

Mark tried every trick he knew to keep his orgasm at bay. Maybe his body missed Jackson too much; he was so close so fast and Jackson hadn't even put his cock in yet. But just as possible, maybe this was how Jackson had always made him feel.

 

 

However, it was Jackson who cursed and broke down first. Mark could feel the pillow being snatched out from under him and saw from the corner of his eye that it was thrown to the floor or something. And then everything was going in a blur: he was dragged up; flipped around; and finally sat down on Jackson's lap. Jackson's got one solid arm around his waist, keeping Mark pressed up against his hard chest. And there it was, that familiar thrilling pressure that always drove Mark insane nudging at his loose rim. It breached him so fucking slowly, accompanied by Jackson's harsh panting next to his ear.

 

 

Mark himself could do nothing, hear nothing, see nothing. He could only smell his beloved all around him and feel him finding his way home inside of him.

 

 

When Jackson was all in and he hugged Mark even closer, even though there was physically no space between them now, and sobbed out “I can't live without you”, Mark broke down. He couldn't hold back his tears anymore.

 

 

They moved together, kissing when the movements and angle allowed and breathing each other in. They touched anywhere they could reach. And with Jackson, he never had to imagine or fantasize to make himself orgasm, more accurately he had always had to try to distract himself, didn't want to let Jackson know how completely _his_ Mark's body and heart were.

 

 

As soon as he stopped dumping his load into Mark, Jackson asked for a second round. And Mark could do no more than laugh weakly and croak out: “as many rounds as you want”.

 

 

And damn his athletic boyfriend to hell and back. Jackson actually went for three and by the end of it, Mark felt almost comatose. In the last round he was simply a rag doll, albeit a very loud and sensitive one, in Jackson's arms. The last time they had had this kind of fuckathon was two years ago when Mark came back from his two weeks in LA visiting his family. Jackson wouldn't even let him down from the front door until they had both come.

 

 

Maybe Jackson knew something was up tonight, because he refused to close his eyes but kept staring quietly at Mark's face, even though usually he could fall asleep within seconds of his head hitting the pillow. Well, his Jackson was a smart guy. Goofy but damn smart and intuitive as hell. Too smart for his own good sometimes.

 

But he kept combing through Jackson's soft hair with his fingers and rubbing circles into his back, and eventually Jackson stopped purring and dozed off. Only then did Mark loosen his embrace, taking the utmost care not to disturb Jackson, not to let the love of his life know he was letting go. He couldn't deal with an awake Jackson; he wasn't strong enough for that.

 

 

“Merry Christmas, Gaga.” Mark allowed himself only the smallest puff of air from his mouth to Jackson's temple.

 

 

It took Mark years in ideas and planning and months to give this gift.

 

 

He went into the bathroom to get his toothbrush. The rest of his stuff, toiletries and some clothes, had already been packed, for the last time, into the bag he'd always used when he came to stay here.

 

 

Fortunately for him, Jackson's front door automatically locked, so he just left the keys on the coffee table and went out the door.

 

 

Mark Tuan left hundreds of foot prints on the snow trudging his way from his ex-boyfriend's home to the train station, but they stayed visible only for a couple of minutes before the falling snow filled them out.

 

 

 

END


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